


Pyrrhic Victory

by snowkind



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abrupt Ending, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, Blood and Violence, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Captain America: The First Avenger, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Homophobic Language, Human Experimentation, M/M, Minor Mentions of Human Experimentation, Nazi Germany, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, References to Hitler, Stucky - Freeform, War, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 04:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6839791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowkind/pseuds/snowkind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Buck-yyy.” The male held out the last syllable under a breathless pant. </p><p>“Yes?” There was the sound of a hidden smile in Bucky’s voice. </p><p>“We ca— ” </p><p>He pressed his lips against Steve’s, engulfing whatever words of protest the other was going to say. He rolled Steve’s lower lip between his teeth and grinned when he could make out the low purring balled up in the blond’s throat.<br/>The days leading up to December 1941 fell thick and heavy with snow in Brooklyn, New York. Their peaceful days ended when Japan launched a surprise attack on American military bases in the Pacific. World War II was among them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So basic background is that I watched Civil War and **I LOVE IT SO MUCH**.  
>  THE STUCKY FEELS ARE REAL. This fic doesn't actually relate to any Captain America: Civil War events and has more to deal with Captain America: The First Avenger because everything takes place during the 1940s and ONLY stays in the 1940s. So no Avengers, no serum, no HYDRA, just a plain 'ol normal WWII as we know. 
> 
> A lot of inspiration is drawn from the trench poetry written during WWI like Sassoon's or Owen's works.  
> I hope you enjoy reading even though I am pretty bad at writing things longer than 1,000 words... (my attention span just isn't very long u_u )
> 
> I don't own any of the characters unless stated otherwise (there are some random mentions of random characters whose names are just briefly mentioned). Some dialogue is taken directly or modified from the films!
> 
> Love,
> 
> May ( ˘ ³ ˘ )♥
> 
> P.S. The story is most likely embellished with various spelling errors and grammar issues... I tend to overlook a few things while writing and even re-reading! If you happen to spot any problems, please let me know so I may fix it! Thank you!

            “I can do this all day.” Steve panted and held up his fists.

He lunged forward, half-expecting his punch to at least connect to _something_ , and then felt another sharp jab in the jaw. The punch sent him spinning and he landed on the ground with a thud. His ears started to ring and he groaned a bit. He shook his head and pressed his palms against the grimy floor, ready to pull himself up again until he heard a familiar voice. A pair of strong hands pulled him up from the ground.

            “Sometimes, I think you like getting punched.” Steve could pick up on the same hidden smile in Bucky’s voice.

            “I had him on the ropes.” His heart leaped and he couldn’t help but flash Bucky a bloody grin.

His smile instantly disappeared when his eyes locked onto the hat that sat on top of Bucky’s head. His gaze trailed lower and he catalogued every detail of the suit that donned the male’s body.

            “Did you get your orders?”

 Bucky nodded.

            “The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes.” He paused and shot a hesitant look over Steve.

            “Shipping for England first thing tomorrow.”

Steve stared blankly at him. Bucky watched as his eyes barely flickered from his own gaze to the suit. A light returned to the blond’s eyes but he still remained grim. 

            “I should be going.”

Bucky wanted to roll his eyes at the statement and scoff. Not out of spite, but because he sincerely believed Steve should stay. He wanted to make sure he would remain safe. He knew Steve could handle himself but…

            “Come on, man! It’s my last night. Let’s do something.” Bucky emptied his head of the former thought and smiled instead.

* * *

Steve whipped his head back and slammed it against the wall.

            “Steve!” Bucky stopped and held the other firm in his hands.

            “I…I’m good.” Steve replied quietly, eyes half lidded and head thumping with a dull pain.

            “K-Keep on going…” The blond continued in a wispy voice.

            “I’m going to pull out.” Bucky gave Steve’s thighs a light squeeze.

            “Plea…sdon’t.” Steve rested his head against the wall and shook a bit as his bare back pressed against the cool surface.

            “You look like you’re going to pass out, and I’d much rather have you conscious on my last” Bucky stopped himself short and sighed.

He hoisted Steve higher, eliciting a pleasant whimper from him, and then carried him to the bed. He gently lay him down and slowly pulled himself out of Steve. The other whined at the release of pressure and instantly made Bucky feel bad, but the sight of his thick cum spilling out from Steve filled him with an unusual sense of pride. He retired on the bed beside the blond and sighed a sigh of content.

            “Don’t leave tomorrow.” Steve mumbled quietly and curled his knees up to his chest.

Bucky chuckled in response and reached over, running his fingers through the unkempt, golden hair.

            “I have to.”

            “Then I have to go too. I’m gonna try my luck again.”

Bucky stopped his stroking and held a few strands of gold between his fingers.

            “Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.”

Steve’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating for a moment then shrinking down to normal. His glassy blue eyes made Bucky’s stomach contract.

            “What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?”

            “Y…Yes! Why not?”

            “I'm not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.”

 Bucky shook his head and cupped Steve’s face. He looked at him with pleading eyes and furrowed brows.

            “Bucky… come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them.”

            “You… Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” Bucky whispered softly and placed a kiss on the blond’s forehead.

Steve sighed and his eyes fluttered close for a second.

            “How can I?” He started, and moved forward to press their lips together.

            “You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Steve muttered against Bucky’s lips. The corners of his mouth inched upwards.

            “You’re a punk.” Bucky laughed and closed the distance between them again. 

When Steve’s breathing evened out and his chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern, Bucky propped himself up on an elbow and reached for the blanket. He pulled it over the two of them, scooting closer to Steve so he could fit under the covers with the other. He smiled to himself, staring at the peaceful expression painted on Steve’s face, and leaned down to kiss him.

            “I'll always be with you 'til the end of the line.”


	2. Chapter 2

A harsh thin light glared through the windows, hungrily seeking for shadows to dispel. Steve’s eyes flinched at the light and he cracked an eye open. A heavy sigh poured from his chest and he dragged himself out of his bed.

            “Our soldiers and sailors are members of well-disciplined units. But they are still and forever individuals—free individuals.”

Steve turned the volume of the radio a bit higher and then moved to change into a new set of work clothes.

            “They are farmers, and workers, businessmen, professional men, artists, clerks.”

He entered his bathroom and began to brush his teeth.

             “They are the United States of America. That is why they fight.”

He stared at himself in the mirror as he brushed. White, minty foam lined the edge of his mouth.

            “We too are the United States of America.”

He spit into the sink and turned on the faucet, washing himself clean.

            “That is why we must work and sacrifice.” 

He combed his hair until any stray strand was neatly put into place.

            “It is for them.”

He sighed and smiled to his reflection. 

            “It is for us.”

The smile faded and he turned to leave the bathroom.

            “It is for victory.”

He shut the radio off completely.

* * *

            “Hey, kid! Pick up the pace, even Margaret is workin’ harder than you!”

Steve wiped the sweat away from his forehead with his arm and nodded. He glanced over his shoulder and watched the aforementioned, elderly woman busy herself attaching the slide to the stock assembly of the rifle before passing it on to the next woman. She repeated the process with ease, almost mechanical, and it wasn’t until the same nagging voice forced him to focus back on his work.

            “Hey kid! You missed some!”

Steve wiped the sweat away from his forehead with his arm and nodded. He bent down, his back screaming at him for exerting so much physical force, and ran his bony fingers through the dirt. When the tips of his fingers ran over something smooth, he dug his hand further in and pulled the vegetable out. He straightened up and groaned quietly to himself before placing vegetable into his basket.

            “Hey kid! Yer holdin’ up the line!”

Steve wiped the sweat away from his forehead with his arm and nodded. Crowds of people pushed and pressed against him and a clamor of voices rung in his ears. He stepped forward and fished through his pockets for his ration book. He tore out a couple of the multi-colored stamps and handed them over in exchange for the rationed goods. He thanked the other kindly and carried everything back home. The sun had begun to set, scarlet at the horizon, through orange, and upwards into a pale pink and a watery yellow. 

* * *

The sun had begun to rise in Azzano, though Bucky couldn’t quite tell how high up the sun was in the sky. Everything was dark and gray. A bleak gray like pencil shavings. Everyone crouched and inched along the battle field with wide eyes, hugging their guns tightly like a child might to a their stuffed animal. A child afraid of the hideous monster hiding in the shadows. Lurking. Waiting patiently until they let their guard down.

Nearby, a plane was coughing. Smoke was leaking from both its lungs and one deep gash cut into the earth. Next to him, a soldier was coughing. Bucky let one hand go of his rifle and was about to bring a finger to his lips when the rapid fire stuttering of a gun went off. The comrade that had been standing crumpled to the ground, and the piercing sound of more bullets whizzing past his head made something in his head click.

            “RUN!!” Bucky shouted and regiment picked up their speed.

Several more soldiers fell down like flies before he slid into the trench the plane had dug in the ground.

            “SERGEANT!” A soldier yelled over the shrieking of bullets and explosions. He scrambled over to where Bucky was taking cover.

            “WE’RE OUTGUNNED!” 

            “NO SHIT, JONES! HOW ARE COMMUNICATIONS?”

            “THEY’RE DOWN, SIR.”

Chunks of dirt came flying into the crater when an explosion landed nearby. The color seemed to drain from Jones’ face.

            “NO REINFORCEMENTS, HUH?” Bucky spit out the grit that had found its way into his mouth. 

Jones nodded gravely. Bucky grinned.

            “LET’S GIVE THEM HELL THEN.”

Jones simply nodded, though it was evident his eyes were full of terror, and together they turned onto their stomachs and fired as best as they could through the thick smoke. They held their ground for a substantial amount of time, longer than Bucky had suspected, and when enemy fire ceased he felt his stomach flip. The battle had seemed hopeless: outgunned and without reinforcements. He almost stood up from his spot to cheer until another voice cut through the eerie silence.

            “GAS! GAS! QUICK!”

Everyone who was left alive hastily searched for their helmets, fitting them just in time. But someone was still yelling and stumbling and thrashing like a man on fire. The firing resumed and Bucky breathed heavily through the mask. He picked up his bulky gun, and through foggy panes saw the soldier drowning. The male’s hands went to his throat, then clawed at the air—the air that he could no longer breathe. The air that had ceased to exist.

Bucky could hear, at every jerk, the blood come gargling forth from the man’s liquefied lungs. He fell to his knees, guttering, choking, drowning.

The intoxication of success instantaneously evaporated; Bucky was soberly his old, defeated self again.

            “-EANT! SERGEANT! SERGEANT!”

Bucky felt someone shaking his body. He tore his eyes away from the horrific sight he had just witnessed and slowly focused his vision on Private Jones.

            “SERGEANT, WE’VE GOT TO MOVE! SOMETHING’S GOT THOSE NAZI BASTARDS DISTRACTED. WE’VE GOT TO GO NO—”

A burning hot, white light washed everything out of sight. Bucky was knocked onto his back and an ear-splitting ringing began to drill into his head. He screamed and squeezed his eyes tight until he could see stars. His head swarmed with a million thoughts, and not able catch a single one to realize what was going on, he blacked out.

He was sure he had died, and for a moment he was actually relieved. The war had done things to him. Irreversible changes he feared that even if he did return home… _Home_. Home meant something else… _someone_ else. Someone he wished more desperately than anything in the world to see. Even a glance would do. A glance before he died.

When Bucky opened his eyes again he was in a cot. A hospital? His mouth felt dry. He looked around and heard echoing, fragmented voices. Everything seemed so _foreign_. The white, immaculate surroundings made him feel disorientated. Which way was up? Down? Exhausted, he let his head fall onto its side. Red. The metal glint of a saw made his eyes flinch. The vibrant red contrasted against the white of the room.

His left arm was missing.

Pain instantly shot through his body and generated in that awful way. Throat and mouth. Air became sand.

He blacked out again.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve sat with his hands between his knees in the long legs of daylight. It was a Sunday, and even during such gloomy times people still went about life as normally as possible. They went to baseball games. Watched movies. Went to the pub.

Steve preferred to sit on the rooftop of his tenement building with his sketchbook and pencil.

When he was alone the most distinct feeling was of disappearance, but when he took up his pencil and let his hand act on its own accord, the feeling dissipated and a crooked smile perched itself onto his lips. It was hard to say how many sketches he had done of Bucky when he left for war.

Steve’s smile grew a little wider when he completed the drawing. He set the pencil down and gently traced the curve of Bucky’s jaw with the pad of his finger. He closed his eyes and continued to run his finger along the soft paper. He knew every detail of Barnes’ features. The way when two shallow creases formed in his forehead whenever his eyebrows knit together in concern. The way when his nose imperceptibly scrunched whenever he laughed too hard. The way when his viridescent eyes occasionally shone a stormy blue whenever the sun hit them in the right light. The way when his lips curled exceptionally higher at the corners whenever he smiled. The way when his set of teeth, straight and proper like a military graveyard, lined up perfectly and the way his melodious voice rose and fell, undulating in sound, whenever he spoke. And **God** he missed it. Missed him. _Missed_ him.

He prayed to God that wherever Bucky was, he was safe.

* * *

Blood leaked from his nose and licked at his cracked lips. His eyes had blackened. Cuts had opened up and a series of wounds were rising to the surface of his skin. His mouth tasted of iron.

         “How wonderful that you have awoken in time for me to show off my laboratory facilities.”

Bucky, now only coming to his senses, tried to move and found his entire body bound tightly to a table. His eyes widened. He craned his neck up and saw a stout man, presumably a doctor or scientist of sorts, scribble something on his clipboard before casually strolling behind him. He set his head back down and sucked in a sharp breath through grit teeth. He tried to move again, his movements stiff with rage, and used as much force as he could. It was useless.

         “What have you done.” Bucky growled.

         “Better phrasing might be what I _am_ going to do to you.”

         “The hell is that s’posed to mean.” He shot a hard glare when the scientist came back around.

         “My name is Doctor Arnim Zola. And you, Sergeant Barnes, are going to be the future of the Third Reich.”

The Swiss adjusted his glasses and parted his lips as if he was going to prattle on about his diabolical plan and then press his palms together and produce a hefty, evil laugh. Bucky wasn’t quite sure Doctor Gorgonzola or whatever his name was could even produce a strong laugh. Maybe a squeak?

         “Ah… Life is obstinate. And how wicked of it that it clings closet where it is most hated.” A sinister voice intervened and Doctor Zola shut his mouth. Now _he_ could probably do an evil laugh. 

         “You’re wrong. I don’t hate life. Life gives me a second chance to beat up fuckin’ Nazi scum like yourself.” Bucky spit the words out and stared with dark, glowering eyes.

         “Arnim, I see you have found a rather… feisty test subject.” 

         “Ah… do not mind what he says. He’ll soon be begging for forgiveness.”

         “I’d like to see you _try_.” This time Bucky actually did spit, an action that only made Schmidt press his lips together into a thin line of disapproval.

         “Hm. I expect great things from you, Doctor. The _Führer_ will be expecting great things from you.” And with that the man left as promptly as he came.

Bucky clenched his jaw and balled his hand into a tight fist. The doctor turned around on his heels and offered a wry smile.

         “Shall we begin?”


	4. Chapter 4

         “Turn that up!”

Steve looked up from the half assembled gun his nimble fingers were working on. He turned his head toward the radio and watched as one of the women turned the knob.

         “-eventh Infantry Regiment, the survivors have been rescued by Colonel Chester Phillips and his men after infiltrating the German facility located in the Austrian Alps. After regrouping at Phillips’ base 30 miles out, those survivors of the Regiment have been decommissioned and will be coming back home. Not decommissioned for cowardice, but decommissioned for their heroic actions and sacrifices they have given to help the war effort. Unfortunately not all members of the 107th Infantry Regiment made it out alive. May God bless their souls, and may we forever commemorate those gallant men who gave their lives in action.”

         “When was that?” Steve stood up from his seat. His lip quivered.

         “When was what?”

         “The…” He gently gnawed on his lower lip.

         “Did they.” He swallowed hard and tried to compose himself.

         “Did they say when the 107th Regiment was rescued?”

         “Uuh, I think a couple days or so ago.” The woman drawled on slowly, not noticing the apprehensive change in his demeanor.

         “I…”

         “Hey, kid! Pick up the pace!”

 He sat back down and intertwined his fingers.

* * *

         “I need the causality list from Azzano.”

         “You don't get to give me orders or even need to **be** here. Get outta here, kid.”

         “Please, I just need one name.”

         “We’re really busy he—”

         “Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th. B-A-R-”

         “ **Kid**.”

The sharp punch made him clench his teeth into his tongue. Blood quickly filled his mouth.

         “Just stay where you belong you fuckin’ _pansy_.”

Steve staggered and tried to stabilize himself. His tongue quickly swelled and felt heavy in his mouth.

         “Please.” He swallowed hard and cringed at the foul, overwhelming taste.

         “Just tell me if he's alive…”

Another punch connected with his stomach. He fell onto the ground and coughed violently, choking on his own blood infused saliva.

         “Look around. Since your precious _boyfriend_ ” The male sneered at the word.

         “isn’t even here to save you then I can bet honest to God he ain’t coming back. Probably got his fuckin’ head blown off. Actually, 107th? Think I heard ‘em get captured by Nazi’s. He’s long gone. Experimented on, I bet, and dead. **Dead**. No one to come fuck your little cunt anymore so just go back to helping with the other women and doing what you’re _supposed_ to be doing.”

Steve’s blood boiled and his face turned scarlet. He could feel his tongue pulse as if his heart were in his mouth. Suppressed tears rolled down his cheeks in big, hot swells. Never in his entire life had he wanted to _hurt_ another person more than he did now.

He scrambled to his feet as quickly as the other and put up his arms to defend himself. There would be no Bucky this time.

A fist came flying for his face. He dodged, not quickly enough, but quick enough to avoid having his nose brutally crushed.

No Bucky to pull him up from the ground.

Another punch landed and the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

He fell to the ground and groaned. His skin split against the jagged floor and warm blood dripped down his face.

No Bucky to tease him about his reckless fighting.

         “Damn queer.”

A swift kick was delivered to the soft flesh of his stomach. Steve cried out and felt the last of his consciousness leave with his breath.

No Bucky at all.

* * *

He woke up to a dull gray light and the gravelly floor pressed against his cheek.

He shivered and felt sore. Unbearably sore.

A gut wrenching taste sat in his mouth. Dried blood cracked on his dirty face.

He threw up and then dragged himself home.

* * *

Everything was so desperately noisy in the dark when he was alone.

He was waiting for the numbness of sleep to overcome his mind.

He turned onto his side and desperately wished for it to be daybreak.

His eyes fluttered open when he didn’t realize he had closed them.

The sky was dark and overcast.

He wished he could sleep again.

* * *

I miss you. 

Shut up shut up shut up _shut_ up shut upshutupshutupshut up s h u t u p s h u t u pSHUT UPSHUTUP **SHUT** **UP** shut up shut _upshutupshutupshut up_ shutupshut ups h u t u p s h u t u pSHUT up **shut up shut up** shut up shut up shut up shut up shut upshutup **shutup** shut up s h u t u p s h u t u pSHUT UPSHUTUP **SHUT** **UP** shut up shut upshutupshutupshut upshutupshut ups h u t u p s h u t u pSHUT up **shut up shut up** shut up shut up shut up _shut_ up shut upshutupshutupshut up s h u t u p s h u t u pSHUT UPSHUTUP **SHUT** **UP** shut up shut _upshutupshutupshut up_ shutupshut ups h u t u p s h u t u pSHUT up **shut up shut up** shut up shut up shut up shut up shut upshutup **shutup** shut up s h u t u p s h u t u pSHUT UPSHUTUP **SHUT** **UP** shut up shut upshutupshutupshut upshutupshut ups h u t u p s h u t u pSHUT up **shut up** shut up Shut. Up.

_I miss you_.

* * *

He walked slowly. Cautiously. Clumsily. Heavy footstep after the other.

His mind wandered and then came back to the present. Wandered. Returned. Wandered. Returned.Wandered.Returned.

He stopped. A lump formed in his throat before he could realize it was there. His nostrils were flared and his eyes were wide.

He choked on air. Felt his eyes burn. His vision blur.

There was the familiar tan suit and hat, clean and pressed like the day Bucky donned it the day before he was shipped to England.

Bucky. Bucky? Bucky. _His_ Bucky.

         “Buck...” 

The Sergeant tore his gaze from the apartment building and looked at Steve straight in the eyes.

A starving grimace pinned his lips tight.

His eyes studied Steve as if he were a riddle.

It wasn’t his Bucky.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> _“When the boys come back they will not be the same. They have challenged Death and dared him face to face”_  
>  ~Sassoon, ‘They’

Silence filled the air and Steve’s eyes nervously flickered to everything.  
The slight creak of the chair made him jump. He quickly glanced over to Bucky and felt his heart constrict in his chest. He could see that Bucky’s mind was elsewhere—with death, with grief.

          “Bucky.” Steve whispered his name softly. The word floated from his mouth, then molded itself like a stain to the ceiling.

Bucky turned to look at him.  
Steve hesitantly reached over. He laced his hand on top of Bucky’s. The male flinched. Steve’s chest tightened and he retracted his arm.  
Tears silently rolled down Bucky’s cheeks.

          “Hey…”

He stood up from his seat and gingerly kissed Bucky on the forehead.

          “It’s okay…”

* * *

Bucky allowed a sigh to slip from his lips when the warm water was poured over his head.  
He allowed his shoulders to relax and his head to lean forward against his knees as Steve washed him. Steve gently massaged Bucky’s scalp. His lithe fingers running through the long strands of brown.  
Bucky curled his knees closer to his chest when Steve moved his fingers down. He massaged his neck and loosened the knots he had.  
Bucky closed his eyes when Steve brought his hands to his back. He could feel Steve’s fingers linger on the scarred tissue of his left shoulder blade where his arm was missing and thought he could feel Steve trembling. He almost opened his eyes to see if the male was crying but paused when he suddenly felt a pair of lips on same spot where the fingers had lingered. Steve kissed the ugly wound over and over until Bucky felt like putty. Like he could just slip through Steve’s fingers. He buried his face between his knees and was on the verge of tears. Steve smiled gently to himself and raised the bucket to pour more water over his body.

_The rushing sound of water thrashed against his ears. Bubbling bubbling bubbling. Gagging. His hair was yanked back and his lungs burned for air. His mouth gaped open and he sucked in. Too quick. Dunked in. Tepid water rushed into his mouth. Gagging gagging gagging._

He opened his eyes and instantly felt Steve’s absence. He turned and saw Steve standing back from him. He was shaking ferociously. Trembling like a leaf in the harsh winter’s breath.  
Water had gotten everywhere.  
Bucky let go of the edge of the tub. The rigid tension in his wrist loosened up. He moved to stand up. Shamed scorched the tips of his ears.  
Steve moved first. He wrapped Bucky in a fluffy towel.  
Wrapped his arms around Bucky. Secure. Warm.

* * *

When Steve returned from the day’s worth of work he found Bucky sitting on the couch. A blank expression was chiseled to his face, and instantly Steve felt worried. He dropped off the small bag of groceries he was carrying and walked over to where Bucky sat. He paused a moment, uncertain about what to do, and then finally took the leap and moved to sit on his lap. He straddled him gently, knees planted on either side of Bucky, digging into the couch. He looked with large, worried eyes.

          “Bucky?”

No response.  
Steve leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to the male’s cheek.  
No response.  
Steve paused for a moment and lowered his gaze. He inhaled sharply and then pressed a kiss to the male’s jaw. Two times. One on each side.  
No response.  
Steve kissed his neck. Three times. Each moving lower.

          “I missed you.” He mumbled the words softly into his skin.

He looked up at the blank, battle-worn face and his vision turned blurry. He placed a hand on his chest. Felt the slow beat of his heart. Allowed his hand to slip lower, lightly dragging his fingers. Pressed his palm flat against his lower abdomen. Bucky started to tremble under his touch.  
He stopped and saw a pained look on Bucky’s face. Steve turned his head away. He drew back his hand and nodded his head slowly. Shakily. Crawled off of him entirely. Bucky dropped his gaze to his lap. Tears fell onto his thighs.

          “Hey...”

Steve gingerly placed his hand under Bucky’s chin and tilted his head up. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Bucky’s forehead.

          “It’s okay…”

* * *

Hunger coiled in the depths of his stomach.  
Steve sensed it and got up from his seat. He always could sense things.  
Bucky sat quietly and watched the blond disappear into the tiny kitchen. It wasn’t long until the room was filled with a delicious aroma.  
Steve returned to the table with a plate of bacon, two biscuits, and melted cheese. He knew it was the last of the bacon Steve could get from his rations book for the month.  
Guilt stirred in his stomach but his hunger agitated him more. He took a bite.

_His body convulsed on the floor as he choked on air, on tears, on the food that reminded him too much of charred flesh._  
Steve fervidly patted him on the back, concern messily scribbled on his small-framed face.  
Guilt stirred in his stomach. He threw up what little he had in his emaciated body.

Steve began to gently rub his back when he stopped retching.  
His eyes burned with tears and embarrassment. He felt _useless_.  
Steve helped him to his feet and sat him back on the chair. He cleaned Bucky up and wiped away the vomit.  
Kissed away the tears. Gentle. Soft.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve opened his eyes. His neck hurt.  
Sleeping on the tiny couch was uncomfortable. He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck.

          “Good morning… It’s early.” A whisper.

Steve stiffened and he looked over to where his bedroom was. Bucky stood against the rickety doorframe. The words shocked him. He hadn't heard Bucky speak more than two words to him since he came back. An odd warmth bloomed across his chest and before he knew it tears were streaming down his face.

          “Yes,” Steve hiccuped.  
          “It’s very early.”

Bucky remained silent after that, but he crossed the room and sat next to Steve. The sun had yet to rise and the sky carried a hazy glow. They seemed to themselves the first people up of all the world.

That night Bucky and Steve shared the bed together.

* * *

          “I love you, Bucky. You know that, right?”

Bucky turned his head a bit and gave him a fleeting glance. The moonlight splashed in through the window, rising and falling and dripping onto Steve’s face.

          “Before you came back… I thought you were _dead_.”

Steve sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He cradled his head between his hands.

          “No one told me anything. No one _wanted_ to tell me anything.”

Bucky slowly moved to sit up too.

          “I was so… so miserable.”

Steve turned to face him. He brought a trembling hand to his face. Bucky pressed into Steve’s hand.

          “What did they do to you…?

           Are you still there, Bucky?

           Are you still _my_ Bucky?”

Steve hiccupped and retracted his arm, wiping away the tears from his face. Bucky frowned and narrowed his eyes. He scooted closer to the other and rested his chin on the top of the blond mass of hair. Steve turned inwards toward him and placed his cheek against his chest.

          “I’m sorry…” Steve’s voice quavered.

Bucky wrapped his right arm around his shoulder and pressed him closer to himself.

          “I’m sorry they did this to you.”

* * *

          “Remember when I would get sick _all_ the time?”

The blond’s voice was quiet in the dark. Bucky could feel him shift and turn on his side so they were facing one another.

          “And I’d whine about wanting orange juice and would always make you get some for me? And when you brought me the juice I’d complain that it was too cold and you would tell me how picky I was and how I would hate it if the juice were warm?”

Bucky scooted closer. Their warm breaths intermingled.

          “And after I finally drank it all and you tucked me in and then I would I ask if I was going to die. And… And I thought it was funny that I could die just the same on a sunny day as I could on a cloudy day.”

Steve pressed his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck.

          “And then you’d tell me to shut up because I was just talking nonsense and that you wouldn’t hesitate to kick my ass even though I was sick.”

He let out a breathy laugh and then fell silent.  
Bucky looked down to see if he was okay. He was shocked to find the blond crying.

          “It’s funny that even a good memory like that can make you cry.” Steve finally spoke through broken breaths.

          “You’d take care of me _all_ the time and I felt useless _all_ the time. Did you know that?”

He didn’t know how to respond. Steve sniffled instead.

          “But even when I felt like that you still took care of me without any complaint. And… and now I want you to know that I’ll always take care of you. It’s not a burden, Bucky. I’ll **always** be with you until the end of the time. You know that, right? That I. That I…”

Bucky kissed him.

          “I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for sticking around and reading this short story to the end!  
> It really means a lot to me when you leave a comment or give this work a kudos, but it really means a lot more to me considering the fact that you've even read one of my works!  
> I am so grateful to have such kind supporters, and I'd just like to thank you all for also bearing with any potential discrepancy in characterization of the various characters I have made!
> 
> If you want to read another one of my Marvel works, check out [this other Stucky work with a pinch of Tony ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5960107)!  
> Or if you're more in the mood for somethin' a lil' more angsty, check out [this other Stony work](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6793414)!  
> And finally if you just want someone fluffy and short and sweet, check out [ this ScarletVision work](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6805264)!
> 
> Nevertheless, thank you for sticking around and I hope you have a phenomenal remainder of the day!
> 
> P.S. If you have any requests/would like to read about a certain event or AU feel free to leave a comment or message me on my [Tumblr](http://solotrooper.tumblr.com)!


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